


A Matter of Economics

by tethrasing



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tethrasing/pseuds/tethrasing
Summary: Dorian and the Inquisitor have a debate about slavery that turns heated and the Inquisitor storms off. When she returns to Dorian, she finds he's not quite as she left him.





	A Matter of Economics

**Author's Note:**

> I always found the in game conversation with Dorian about slavery rather lacking. This is the result.

Cerys looked at Dorian over her book for the third time in as many minutes, watching as the midday sun streamed through the air between them. He was reading a tome about magical theory, slightly too technical for her limited knowledge from her time in the Ostwick Circle. He frowned at the page he was looking at and Cerys returned her eyes to her own book. Not that she was actually reading.

 

“Cerys, my dear, you might as well spit it out,” Dorian said without looking up.

 

She frowned at him. Of course he had noticed her staring. Admitting defeat, Cerys closed her book and set it on the table between their chairs. They were sitting in the corner of the library Dorian had claimed when they had moved into Skyhold. One chair for Dorian had quickly become two chairs for both of them. She took a deep breath before she began. She knew this conversation could quickly turn unpleasant, but there were things she needed to know.

 

“Did you have slaves? Back in Tevinter?”

 

Dorian looked up at her, clearly surprised by the question. After a beat, he let out a breath and closed his own book, setting it on top of hers.

 

“Not personally, but my family has slaves and treats them well,” Dorian replied, sitting back in his chair, “Honestly, I never thought much about it until I came south.”

 

Cerys nodded. It made sense; there were things about her own culture that she never thought to question until she learned that things were done differently elsewhere.

 

“Back home, it’s…how it is. Slaves are everywhere. You don’t question it. I’m not certain even many slaves do,” Dorian continued, keeping his tone even.

 

Cerys chewed on her bottom lip, mulling over his words. She steeled herself for her next question.

 

“But what’s your opinion on slavery?”

 

Dorian made a displeased face.

 

“What, am I to answer for all the crimes of the Imperium? I expect that from the others here, not you,” Dorian spat.

 

“I’m not holding you accountable for anything, Dorian,” Cerys replied earnestly, “When I say I want your opinion, I’m really just asking for your opinion.”

 

She watched as Dorian deflated at her words.

 

“Forgive me. You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cerys said easily.

 

Dorian looked down at his lap for several moments before meeting her gaze again.

 

“In the South, you have alienages, slums both human and elven. The desperate have no way out. Back home, a poor man can sell himself. As a slave, he could have a position of respect, comfort, and could even support a family,” Dorian said.

 

“Some slaves are treated poorly, it’s true, but do you honestly think inescapable poverty is better?” he finished.

 

Cerys blinked at Dorian. She couldn’t take issue with everything he said, but she was stunned that a mage would support slavery. Stunned that _Dorian_ would support slavery. He had told her himself that he believed mages should be free, why should anyone else be held in bondage?

 

“But slaves aren’t free,” she found herself blurting out.

 

Dorian frowned at her. Distantly, Cerys recognized something akin to fear in his eyes which he quickly covered up.

 

“Have you ever been a slave?” he shot back at her.

 

She glared at him.

 

“Neither have I,” he continued, “It’s easy for us to sit here in our comfortable armchairs and speculate about ideals like freedom and self-determination. It’s much harder for those actually in situations where they are forced to choose between poverty and slavery. I wouldn’t presume to understand their choices.”

 

Cerys closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in through her nose. She could feel a deep seated rage simmering just beneath the surface of her skin, but it wasn’t directed at Dorian. When she opened her eyes, Dorian was attempting to mask a worried look.

 

“I may not know what it’s like to be a slave, but when I speak of freedom and self-determination, I am _not_ speculating,” Cerys explained, her voice rising as she continued, “I lived in the same building for 17 years, unable to leave, unable to even go outside of my own accord. I was watched every second of every day to make sure I was _acceptable_. Every hour was scheduled for me, regimented magical training to make sure I wasn’t a threat. And you think I can’t relate to the slaves in Tevinter even a little bit?”

 

Cerys suddenly felt hot and agitated, like she was going to jump out of her skin. She gripped the arms of her chair tightly as she looked at Dorian. He opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it again.

 

After a moment, she couldn’t stand his pained look, couldn’t stand sitting there any longer. Cerys bolted out of her chair and quickly exited the library, not stopping to look back at Dorian.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was well after dark by the time Cerys returned to the rotunda. She nodded to Solas as she moved through the first floor. He returned the gesture with a small smile from his spot at his desk.

 

“Have you seen Dorian?” she asked quietly.

 

“I believe he is still in the library,” Solas replied, “I saw him go upstairs after dinner and he hasn’t returned since.”

 

If Solas knew about her earlier argument with Dorian, he made no mention of it. Cerys murmured her thanks as she moved to the winding staircase. She took the stairs two at a time and soon found herself in the quiet library. Most of the normal occupants had gone to bed and the lights were low. She turned in to the first row of books and saw Dorian in his chair, as if he had never left, pouring over the same tome from earlier.

 

Cerys watched him for several moments and realized he didn’t seem to actually be reading. She sighed quietly – it seemed he was just as bothered by their earlier conversation as she was. Cerys raised her hand and knocked on the wooden bookshelf to her left.

 

Dorian raised his head, surprise plain on his face.

 

“Can I come in?” she asked.

 

Dorian snorted and looked down at his book.

 

“It’s your castle.”

 

“That’s not a yes.”

 

Cerys remained at her spot in the hallway, waiting expectantly. Dorian looked up at her and rolled his eyes.

 

“Please, come in, Your Worship,” he said, dragging out the words.

 

“Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me that. Only Krem is allowed to call me that,” Cerys replied as she moved to sit in her chair next to Dorian’s.

 

He laughed quietly before they lapsed into silence. Cerys breathed a long sigh before stretching out her leg so that her shin touched Dorian’s.

 

“Hey,” she said, getting him to look up at her, “I’m sorry I ran off earlier. I should’ve stayed so we could talk things out.”

 

“It’s quite all right,” Dorian said, a little too neatly.

 

She frowned at him.

 

“What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?”

 

Cerys watched as Dorian swallowed and offered her a smile.

 

“Nothing at all, I can assure you. For once I am completely devoid of thought.”

 

“ _Dorian_.”

 

As the seconds passed and Cerys held his gaze, Dorian’s mask began to crumble. Soon, he looked truly miserable. Cerys worried he was going to cry and it made her heart ache.

 

“I…thought perhaps you were done with me,” Dorian confessed quietly, looking out the dark window.

 

Cerys gave herself a moment to register his words before she leaned over, marked his place, closed the book, and set it on the side table. She placed her hand loosely in his and he quickly latched onto it, never taking his eyes off the window.

 

“Because we had an argument?” she asked gently.

 

Dorian took in a harsh breath and Cerys noticed the tears had begun to fall from his eyes.

 

“You seemed so angry…” he trailed off, voice barely above a whisper.

 

Cerys squeezed his hand. She hated whoever had made Dorian feel unworthy of love. She wished she could go back in time, befriend Dorian when they were both young and remind him every day how special he was.

 

“Dorian, you are my _best_ friend. But that doesn’t mean we’ll always agree. It’s normal for friends to argue sometimes. What matters is that we work through it together,” Cerys said, pleased when Dorian turned to look at her, “I’m sorry for making you think I was angry with you. I was angry at my life’s circumstances and frustrated with the conversation. But not angry with you, never angry with you. Okay?”

 

Dorian nodded. Cerys removed her hand from his grasp as she stood and moved to hug him. The angle was slightly awkward, but she felt Dorian hastily bury his face into the crook of her neck. She rubbed soothing circles in between his shoulder blades until his breathing evened out.

 

Cerys moved back to her chair when Dorian pulled away. He wiped at his face with his hands for a moment before he spoke.

 

“As long as we’re making apologies, _I’m_ sorry for presuming to know everything about your life.”

 

Cerys waved a dismissive hand.

 

“You didn’t know.”

 

"Still, I'm sorry," Dorian repeated, "You've given me a lot to consider."

 

Dorian looked much more relaxed now than when she had first sat down. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but they would return to normal soon. He regarded her for several seconds as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

 

“Not to dredge up ancient history,” he quipped, “But if slavery or inescapable poverty aren’t the answer, what would the almighty Inquisitor suggest instead?”

 

If someone else had asked her the same question, Cerys might have given a different response. But this was Dorian. She didn’t need to dance around her opinions with Dorian.

 

“I would change the system. Change everything. Make things more equitable. Why should the few live with more wealth than they could ever spend in one lifetime while the many live in squalor? We don’t need slavery to solve the poverty problem. People can be free to live their lives on their own terms without falling into poverty or resorting to slavery. It’s the system as a whole that needs to change.”

 

She saw Dorian’s eyes light up in a mixture of thought and delight as she spoke.

 

“Think about it: Tevinter could lead the way on this,” she continued, “With a nation of free mages in positions of power, you don’t really need slave labor. Abolishing slavery and switching over to a more equitable economic system could radically alter everything in the Imperium for the better. The _entire nation_ would be more profitable. Not to mention what it would do for Tevinter’s reputation.”

 

Cerys realized Dorian was smiling fondly at her as she finished speaking.

 

“If only more magisters felt as you do. Your vision for the future is something, Cerys,” he replied, “My, how scandalized the nobility would be if they knew how radical the Inquisitor was behind closed doors.”

 

Cerys snorted and rolled her eyes.

 

“I don’t exactly hide it from them. It’s just that most of them don’t bother to ask my opinion about anything that really matters.”

 

Dorian made a thoughtful noise. He glanced at the table where their books still sat, one on top of the other.

 

“Perhaps we could return to our reading, now that we’re less distracted,” he suggested.

 

“I’d like nothing better.”

 

Cerys picked up Dorian’s book and handed it to him. She grabbed her own book and slouched down in her chair so her knees made contact with Dorian’s. She saw him smile, not looking up from his book. She opened her book to the last page she had actually read and spent the next few hours reading with Dorian in a companionable silence, pleased that peace had been restored between them.


End file.
